Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1887-11-03

/ been, and her chest, which had shown Man.
dency OF weakness, filed out with renewed
vigor, and her beauty took richer tyne
even though clouded by the impeustrabIs
mists of insanity. Her insanity took q mild
type and she seemed 10 have gone back
mentally to the state Of child Of or 7. :,
innocent and so ignorant did she appear. sbe
spoke very rarely, and then only In mono
| sylabies, and to every question that was
asked of her on any subject shs replied:
II do not know and Their sha might after
| ward say what was desired Of her, but IL was
| indelibly fixed In that poor wrecked in
telligence that abe must always disclaiu any
knowledge.
There Is no doubt that this was ons q the
happlest periods Of Henriettss existence, for.
knowing nothing, she suffering nothing
| Peace and kindness were her portion and
bodily health a full and precious boon. In
no asylum the world affords could this poor.
| stricken wife and mother have had better
| conditions for her ultimate cure than here.
There was nothing to arouse her dormant
| faculties. to make her remember that she was
or ever had been a mother.
In this peaceful il humble place Henriette
Laroque lived eight long years. Barely "a
| years old when this crushing blow fell upon
her, she was now 30, but time was gentle with
| her, and the absence Of wearing thouxht.
| coupled with her healthy life, lsft her far
fresher and younger In appearance than she
had been before she became dementad.
| 1t was In 1879 that the tragic events We
have narrated took place, and we take up the
| thread again in 1880, and follow Roger La
rogue and his little girl, who eight years be-
fore In stormy night left France for
| America.
One day, quite unexpectedly, tall man.
with wide shoulders, with hair and head
white as snow, though he was not old enough
to have had such mark Of age, alighted
| from the train at q station in the charming
little valley town of Chevreuse. With him
was beautiful young girl, whose age would
be judged to be somewhere near 20. but who
was in reality not yet II. They were
both strangers, aud as such attracted consid-
cradle attention from the lounsers about the
station, who were equally struck by the
beauty and distinction Of the young girl and
the peculiar appearance Of the man Not
only were his hair and beard white, but his
face was horribly disfigured by what seemed
scars from q burn.
| They walked toward villa which was for
| sale, and examined it with q view to its pur-
chase, and in a few days they were installed
| there as the owners.
As is usual in small villages, the people Of
this charming valley soon found out all about
| their new neighbor, who had bought the
| White HOUSE, as tho villa was called, and they
| told each other that lie was a rich Canadian
who had come to France with his daughter.
| His name was William Forney, and that of
tho daughter Miss Suzanne Forney. Her
| mother was dead.
When they were settled in their new home
NJ. Forney asked his daughter il sho thought
| she should feel happy in her new home She
replied
wherever you are am happy, and feel
sure that we will both be happy here"
| The father bowed his head and looked
tenderly at his daughter, sitting sigh. Az
| the reader will have OWNED, this father and
child were the same who had fed from
France on that dreary night Roger Laroqus
| and Suzanne.
When Roger had left Franco for the second
time, and as a fugitive from justice, carrying
| his precious burden he took passage for New
| York, where he stayed but short time and
then went to Canada, where he went
| to work in a machine shop with O
| sort of avidity, hoping to regain fortune
and return to France with the one pur-
| pose Of discovering the mystery of the
| drama of the Vile d'Avray
Such energetic and intelligent labor was
bound to achieve its result, and one after an
| other Roger made three important inventions
| in the making and management Of steel He
returned to New York, and he succeeded with
| his inventions beyond his most sanguins
hopes, and be found himself In tho possession
Of q reasonable fortune, with every reason to
believe that it would grow and multiply into
moro than he should ever need.
While here Roger met with an accident,
| which disflgured him so greatly that he felt
| almost as If it were a special providence He
| had rushed to assist in saving some people
whose escape from burning building wss
cut of. and, after having brought them down
to the street in safety, a burning timber fell,
striking him on the left side Of the face, and
burning it so that the scar which remained
almost destroyed the entire symmetry and
color Of that side of his face.
He moved away from that place and again
returned to New York, only now he bore tho
| name of William Forney, and Suzanne In
few years seemed 10 forget that she had ever
had another name. But did she really for
| getl Roger felt sure she had, for during
these whole ten years she had never made tho
slightest mention, nor given one look that
might give rise to suspicion that she re-
membcred. So Rogers mind was easy on
that score.
One day Roger said to her quito unexpect-
edly:
Suzanne, wo ore going to lcavo Now York
and go to Paris, a place you know nothing Of
What do you sayl'
II shall like TO go whenever you do, father;
no matter where it is"
She said that calmly, and nothing In hsr
face showed a hidden thought, yet. after
Roger had gone out, her face saddened, and
a retrospective look came into tbs depths OF
her lovely violet eyes.
They reached Paris, and Roger went boldly
about, knowing himself unacceptable, and
on q solid footing as far as his identity was
concerned. He was received as a rich Ameri
can Canadian who had nade his fortune by
inventions relating to steel.
Roger went everywhere, and no one knew
him. He passed the very judges who Lad
questioned him, he went 10 tho concierge Of
his old apartment where Julia had left ths
| fatal money, and where he had lived so long,
but the concierge answered his triaiug quos-
tons as If to stranger. He went 70 his Old fac
tory. no one knew him. His uncle, Ber-
nardit, had sold the factory juss before his
death, which took place soms two years be-
fore, and Rogers heart drew him toward the
old place. 1t was the hour for dinner, and tho
workmen fled past him, but though they
looked curiously Gt tho man standing there,
none OF them knew him, though he could
have called them nearly all by name.
This and the regret caused By the death Of
old III Bernardo and his wife saddened
Roger greatly. This noble and kind cid
couple had invented story about having
put Suzanne in q convent school, and the
neighbors never questioned its truth So
everything conspired to aid Roger in his new
life.
One day Roger told Suzanne to not feel
uneasy if he was not homo as early es
usual, that no wished to look at some coun-
try houses and might be detained. This was
while they were still at the Hotel Scribe.
The truth was that he wished to wait until
night fell and go to Vile dAvray and kneel
by poor Henriettes grave, which he had
never seen, but which was holy ground to
him.
All the late afternoon he wandered about
the little village into the woods behind and
beyond the house where he had lived The
house was closed and the beautiful garden
had run to weeds. Desolation and neglect
were marked upon the place, and Roger
could not bear tbs sight Of his once charm
ing home thus gone 10 decay. He wandered
to the edge Of tho town to the little grave
yard, but until night fell he dared not 60 TO
the tomb be searched. The moon rose and
by its light he discovered a grave surrounded
by an iron grating, and on the marble cross,
hidden by weeds that grew rank over the